Hear me roar!

I am not a number.  

Not a number on the scale.  

Not a number on a tag inside my clothes. 

Not an age.  

I am a person.  

I am a woman--a happy, healthy, good woman. 

There have been several recent stories in the news centered on weight, BMI, dieting, and eating disorders.  I just read an article that Katie Couric struggled with bulimia for years when she was younger. Lady Gaga has revealed that she's been dealing with anorexia and bulimia since she was 15. I have known several others personally who have battled through an eating disorder.  I know MANY women who grapple with poor body image every day.  The negative talk. The self-loathing. The guilt. The comparisons to other women who look "better" than we do. Who have the "perfect" (insert body part that we desire here).  Well, that woman with the "perfect" _______ probably isn't happy with herself either. She's very likely seeking a "better" body part too. She doesn't like her feet, ears, hair, boobs, thighs, etc. We've been trained--by magazines, movies, Barbie dolls, our parents, our families, our friends--to find our imperfections. And we've been good trainees.

Why do we do this?  Why do we continue to pressure ourselves to be "perfect" when no such thing exists? Why do we allow others to define our value and worth based on stupid numbers and exterior qualities? That's not what we teach our children.  We teach them that who people are is what matters, not what they look like, right? Don't judge a book by its cover.

Maybe it's time we learn more from our kids. My son has taught me a wonderful lesson.  In full disclosure, he is a Mama's Boy ... he loves me completely ... he thinks I'm the cat's pajamas ... the bees knees. And he thinks I am soft--in a comforting, cuddly kind of way. He has told me many times that he loves my squishy belly.  When he would first talk about it I was completely bothered because I am sensitive about that. It's a flaw. A way that I am not "perfect." And he was drawing attention to it. But then I realized what his honest intention was when he said it. Affectionate, sincere, loving, pure. He was using a kind and tender tone of voice, not mocking.  I was hearing taunting--from my negative head voice, not because it was intended or projected. But I was looking for it. My son loves my squishy belly because it's soft and tender and Mommy. Now when I start to feel frustrated with my "fluff" as I call it, when I'm feeling "imperfect," I hear a sweet voice that says "soft." Changing this thought process isn't easy. It's a work in progress. But it's a worthwhile task, for all of us women so that we don't train the next generation the same way we've been trained.

As my daughter eases into the time when she will be setting that voice in her head, I am doing everything I can to build a positive body image. I want her to be happy with herself just as she is. I want her to focus on being happy and healthy ... not perfect. Not defined by numbers.